


take my hand (maybe we'll find a brand new ending)

by TheWakingDreams



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Alternate Universe, Angst, Famous Louis, Fluff, Sexual Content, harry is an actor but then again he's not, niall is very exaggerated, not too much i promise, thats it there isn't much smut I'm sorry, there isn't much representation of the others and for that i am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:57:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4322250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWakingDreams/pseuds/TheWakingDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If anyone were to ask Harry what happened next, he'd have no idea where to begin. Like a blocked signal, his hearing just sort of statics, blacking out along with his sight. The chair beneath him disappears and for a split second he feels nothing but space, sees nothing but darkness. It all comes back at once.</p><p> </p><p>(Or, Harry magically finds himself in a movie with the man of his dreams and falling in love on the big screen isn't as glamorous as it's cracked up to be)</p>
            </blockquote>





	take my hand (maybe we'll find a brand new ending)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FallingLikeThis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/gifts).



> I got so excited when I read this prompt that I ended up writing a bit more than intended! This is actually the first fic I've ever finished so hopefully I did an alright job for the most part! The title is a lyric from the Maroon 5 song called 'Lost Stars'.  
> I apologize for any mistakes or grammatical errors, hope you enjoy. x

 

 "Liar." Harry accuses and honestly what else was he supposed to think? He's sat in the dingy cafe across from his flat building with a lukewarm cuppa, a half gone scone, and a very indignant Nick Grimshaw sat across from him. Nick is a tough case to crack, and in the few months Harry's known him, he's gotten to know nothing about the man that's actually useful or, well. _About him._ Instead all he's gotten are melodramatic retellings of, _'Once me and an old mate o' mine went skinny dipping in the Mississippi'_! Or _'A_ _few_ _years back a magician said he'd make me the rumored hubby of some celebrity_.'

But today the snow blankets the ground outside of the gritty window beside their table, and today it's:  
"I'm screening the new Louis Tomlinson film next week!" And honestly where does he get this stuff?  
"You think I'm lying?" Nick grins over a mouthful of Harry's scone, and reaches into his bag on the floor. He tosses an envelope onto the table. "Open it."  
Harry rolls his eyes and rips the paper, a new kind of curiosity scratching at the back of his mind, and not the kind he usually associates with Nick's antics. He's shaking his head as he rips the seal and pulls out two slips of paper. _Tickets._ He glances up at Nick's smug expression and back down at the two slips of paper that advertise _Once In A Lifetime_ on Thursday--today--at Leicester Square and to arrive from 6:00 to 6:45. It's all very legit, to say the least.  
Nick licks his fingers clean and takes a sip of Harry's tea. "Speechless, are you?"  
"What- just- how?" Harry sputters, unable to take his eyes away from the tickets because _Louis Tomlinson_ is glaring up at him with eyes the color of the Nile and he just needs a moment.  
"There, there, love we don't want to ruin them with all of that drool." Nick tugs the slips from Harry's nimble fingers and shoves them back into the envelope and Harry's heart jumps up to his throat. With a calming sigh, he closes his eyes for a second and leans back in his chair, because this is completely fine. _He's_ completely fine. It's not like he's daydreamed about meeting Louis Tomlinson since he was a confused 14 year old with awkward hair and glasses, no it isn't like that all.  
And he kinda regrets watching ' _Better Than Words_ ' with Nick a few weekends ago because Nick's seen how he reacts to a shirtless Louis and Nick knows it _is_ like that.  
"Don't say anything," Harry groans when he opens his eyes to the man's wide smirk. Nick mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key, once again making Harry forget why he ever befriended this five year old.  
"Don't be so dramatic Styles, I wasn't gonna say a thing," he sips Harrys tea again. "I definitely wasn't going to mention you wanking to Teen Magazine covers of a certain someone for the better half of 5 years."

 Unfortunately, Harry's sigh does nothing to cover tup the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "All wanking aside, congratulations mate, you deserve it." It's weird to see Nick's mocking expression melt to one of soft appreciation, almost morphing his features into something kinder. If Harry knows one thing about Nick, it's that the sarcasm and the teasing is only about 40 percent of who he really is, the other 60 percent ranging from overbearing protectivness to the rare sincerity he shows only in certain moments. It never stays long though.

  "I do, don't I?" Nick boasts. “I've worked hard enough for an opportunity like this, good to see it all pay off."

"You know, I'm still not sure what it is you actually do?” Harry wondered.

"Oh this and that," Nick dismisses with the wave of a hand and gathers his bearings. "Anyway, I best be off."

“Wait" Harry interjects as the older man stands from their table. "What about tonight? Like, what do I wear?"

“Don’t worry about that," Nick waves him away. "I've got it covered. All you need to do is get that other ticket to Horan and be at my place in an hour, you're only date to this thing is me."

"Of course," Harry stands as well and throws a few pounds onto the table. "Never gonna give up are you, old man?"

"Never," Nick grins devishly and then he's gone, the tiny bell above the door ringing on his way out, and the tangy scent of cologne like an airborn disease. Harry fans the air in front of him and he gets ready to step out into the snow as well and ponders the possibility of him meeting Louis Tomlinson tonight. His chances couldn't be too high, like surely enough normal people went to these things, and they'd probably be separate from the celebrities right? Besides, what would even come from this meeting; a photo? An autograph? Either way, neither of those things would be even remotely satisfying, when all harry wants to do is have a romantic candlelit dinner with the man as they sat underneath the stars, on a boat maybe, and discussed the impact his films have had on the lives of many young teens such as his himself. A photo wouldn't be too shabby though.  He orders another two scones to-go and pulls his beanie lower, the scratchy material shielding his ears as he steps out into sharp air. The walk to his flat seems to last an eternity with the envelope burning a hole through his coat--he reaches into his pocket to make sure it's there since there actually _is_ a hole in his coat--and every breath he takes sends chills down his hunched spine.

A child watches with curious eyes from a window four stories above him as he makes his way through the alley beside his building. Just as his body turns the corner he sends a brief wave up into the air, and the child's high joyous giggles rang out before they're carried off by the wind. Harry presses a smile into his scarf, but it's soon frozen with his fingertips once his eyes make out the slouched figure resting on a bed of snow.  His steps are light, but that doesn't stop them from leaving behind a deep trail of prints as he approaches the bundle of  sodden rags, and moves to crouch beside them.

"Hey." He says, his warm voice almost a like burden in the presence of hard winter. "I brought you something." The covers begin to shift upward and a rough bearded face emerges from them.

"Two scones," Harry continues and hands over the white bag with a spot of grease tarnishing the bottom. "They should be warm still."

 The bag sits on the ice for a few moments before one of the mans shaking hands reaches from beneath the rags to bring it to his lap. Harry meets his sunken brown eyes and smiles before standing up because he knows how their routine works by now. The man doesn't speak, he never has and Harry doubts he knows how to anymore, but he always shows thanks with his eyes, the way they shine with unshed tears of gratitude whenever Harry thinks to bring him something whether it be food or extra sheets. But another thing he never does is eat while Harry's still around. He may self conscious about needing help, or maybe he just finds it rude, but Harry never ponders it for long. Instead he leaves and hopes the man is still there whenever he decides to visit him again, and so far, he always has been.

The elevator in his building is broken. Sadly, he doesn't remember this until he's standing in front of it, eyes glaring heatedly at the bold red _'Out Of Order'_ sign. Weirdly so, he doesn't feel as annoyed as he had coming down the stairs this morning as he does walking up them now. Maybe it's because he's a little less tired, or because he has something to look forward to now. Who knows? He gets a text from Niall just as he reaches the third floor.  
' _where r ya mate? im at grimmys and he says ur late !!_ '  
Harry can feel his brows furrow as he glances down at his phone and stumbles on the last step.  
" _ive just had lunch with him,"_ he replies, _"he said to come by tonight, not now_ "  
He then replaces his cracked phone with his keys and barges into his flat to escape the musky scent and yellow blinking lights of the third floor hall. His phones buzzes again when he's hanging up his coat.  
Nick: _come NOW_  
And so he sighs, hangs his head, and takes his coat from the rack before heading out again.

  Nick is an idiot.

"I think you look good," Niall compliments from where he sits on the bed, spilling popcorn bits all over his sharp tailored suit. Matter of fact, he's an idiot as well.

"Do you?" Harry retorts and smooths his hands over the front of his blazer once more. It's beautiful, the blazer, a deep navy blue color, fitting snuggly across his shoulders. The look was fresh and simple, a loose white shirt falling just beneath the blazer, and skinny jeans that rang a bit too true to their name. _Those_ he's not too sure about.

"It isn't that big a deal, you twat." Nick rolls his eyes, and tugs at the tight sleeves of Harry's blazer.

"And could you quit checking out your arse for two seconds, we're on a tight schedule here."  
"It's just," Harry takes one last look at his bum before turning to Nick with a sigh. "They're just so tight, like, I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to split right down the middle."  
"Hmm," Nicks rubs his shaved chin, studying Harry's bum as if deep in in thought. "Yeah maybe... Maybe you're right. Let's try squatting instead of sitting, alright?" He cackles loudly and takes Harry's hand to lead him out of the room. They wait at the door for Niall to follow them, and Nick has to stop Harry with a warning glare from shaking his head as his friend walks out wiping even more popcorn butter onto his suit jacket. There's a lump in the left pocket area but Harry can't really be bothered to ask what it is in fear of being charged as an accomplice.

"You all right?" He asks instead and makes eye contact with Nick over the boy's head as he beams. "Yeah, yeah, fine mate." He smacks his lips. "Pretty excited, aren't you? Know you've been wanting to bone that Tomlinson bloke for forever."

Harry sighs over Nick's laughter. "Let's just go." And they pile into Nick's car. "I don't remember you have a Range Rover?" Harry says after he's clicked his seatbelt and turned to check on Niall, almost wishing they had invested in a baby on board sign.

"Yeah, my old ride got towed, can you believe that?"  
And yes, yes he can believe that because it sure isn't the first time this has happened.

  The drive goes on in silence with nothing but faint chewing from the backseat and Iggy Azalea's ramblings to fill the air. And it isn't an awkward silence at all, more like a busy silence where everyone's to preoccupied with what's happening in their own mind to entertain someone else's. Harry's mind, for instance is like a tornado and he's sure his hands would be shaking like crazy if they weren't balled into fists at his sides. It isn't every day that one gets to sit in a room full of celebrities for hours and it's just starting to hit him how real this all is, how real they are. These are real living people, and not just light reflected from his television screen.

 When they get there, Nick stops the car to let them out. "Got your tickets? Good job," he says when Harry nods. "Okay walk into the foot entrance, but for now go makes yourselves busy until six. I'll meet you on the carpet." He then drives off and leaves them to stare at each other like kids on their first day of primary. With shrugging shoulders, they decide to hang around a bar as they wait for time to draw near. Niall manages to get one drink into him, but Harry opts for soda after that because the last thing he would want is to be pissed in front of so many celebrities. He tells Niall this, but the Irishman only laughs. "Yeah, have fun with that mate," and takes another sip of his beer.

The carpet is in plain sight of where they sit at the bar, and Harry checks his watch when he notices it gradually start to fill up. "It's nearly six, we should head over now." He says to Niall and the other man hurries to finish his drink before they leave.

They're waiting in a holding area with about fifty other lucky patrons when Niall chokes on his gum, startling Harry beside him. "What is it?"  
"Nothing, um," he pounds his chest. "Just got a bit too excited I guess." But he's pale, and Harry follows his line of sight to the most beautiful man he's every seen. "Who is that?" He breathes, his eyes roaming over sculpted plains of bronze skin and buzzed--green?--hair.  
"Oh, uh, I dunno." Niall stutters, but before Harry can point out his obvious lie, they're being ushered onto the carpet with staff yelling in their ears to "keep walking!" They walk as slow as humanly possible, at one point Niall has to drag Harry along because he could've sworn he'd just seen David Beckham. "Most of the a-listers went through the car entrance," Niall explains, but Harry still can't be too sure. He's about to give up and walk faster because the camera flashes are really giving him a headache, when his hand is snatched into a vicelike grip.  
"There the both of you are!" Nick exclaims as the flashes increase.  
"Are you famous or something?" Harry asks, pulling his poor aching hand away.  
"No, no, but I've got to go." Grimmy insists. "Hope you two enjoy the film!" And then he's off strutting down the carpet with his head held high. Niall exhales and shakes his head quickly. "Let's go."  
They keep with the rest of their group and enter the cinema through the riffraff entrance, a different one from Nick's, which takes them downstairs. The place is crowded already, but Harry can't make out any familiar faces when he looks up. "So all the celebrities are sat up there?" He wonders to Niall as they make it to their seats.  
"Yup," Niall answers, reaching beneath his seat with his head down between his knees. "They left us free food under here!" He pulls up bottled water and a box of biscuits. Harry's turned around in his seat, still gazing up at the top tier. "You should save 'em for the movie," he says absently. He sighs, barely able to recognize any famous people from so far away, and turns back around to watch the red carpet interviews being shown on the screen. His eyes are fuzzy and out of focus until a painstakingly ruggedly handsome face appears. "Look, Niall, it's him!" Harry whispers without taking his eyes from the screen, patting Niall's shoulder excessively.  
"I know, I kno-"  
"Shh!" Louis Tomlinson is standing on the carpet, grinning at the lucky journalist with sharp teeth and an even sharper blue eyes. "Yeah, yeah, it was pretty fun actually. You know, I've never really played a role as dramatic as this one, and it was nice to um, kind of explore the more romantic side of things, you know?"  
"Wait so this is a romance film?" Harry wonders and shushes Niall before he can answer because Louis' speaking again.  
"Oh yeah, definitely, I mean, he's a lovely guy, and extremely beautiful, I really enjoyed working with him."  
"This is a gay film?"  
Niall turns to him exasperated. "Did you not bother watching the trailer mate? Jesus Christ." And turns back to his biscuits.  
Yeah he probably should've done that. Harry look away from Niall only to see that the screen is now blank and people, what he assumes are the cast, are walking onstage, with Louis, short and proud in the center. This is gonna be a long night. They talk a bit about how fun making the film was, while giving thanks to the many people involved. Harry's sure some more sentimental things are said, but Louis Tomlinson is standing mere feet away from him with his head to the ground and a cute close-mouthed smile on his face, and he isn't very focused on listening at the moment.  
Once it's Louis' turn, he lifts his head and takes the mic.

  If anyone were to ask Harry what happened next, he'd have no idea where to begin. Like a blocked signal, his hearing just sort of statics, blacking out along with his sight. The chair beneath him disappears and for a split second he feels nothing but space, sees nothing but darkness. It all comes back at once.

 It's still dark, but flashing lights and moving bodies alert him he's no longer blinded. The club's pounding with a rap song he's never heard before, and he's sat at the bar, sipping on some amber liquid with a tall brunette clinging from his arm. "Don't look now," she's whispering, "But 3:00, tall, dark and handsome. Been eyeing you for the past five minutes."

He looks, of course he does, but when his eyes come into contact with hooded blue ones he almost wishes he'd listened. The man sits at the down the bar with two others but they're out focus, matter of fact every face besides the man's is blurred.  
  Breaking their staring contest, Harry downs his drink and turns to the woman beside him. She's staring at him, her thick eyebrows furrowed like he's just lost his mind. "What's wrong? Harry?"  
"Who are you?" He blurts and mentally slaps himself, because that is the last question he should be asking.  
"Laura," she says slowly as if testing the waters. "Your best friend. Are you alright?"

"I..um," as he stutters something he can't help but notice how weird his voice sounds. Deeper and, "I have no idea," _American_. Now a small hand is latching onto his wrist and pulling him towards the exit, he heaves a breath of fresh air once they're out of the stuffy club, and plops down, leaning back against the side of the building.

“What's going on?" Laurademands standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. "Harry?" She starts again when he stays silent.

"I don't know," he says so lowly it's almost like he speaking to the pavement.

"What?" She squats in front on him and presses her hands to his cheeks, turning his head to face her. "Listen to me really good alright?" She's continuing before he can even nod. "You're Harry Styles, you're 24, you bake cookies for a living, you're an only child, and you met me in junior high, you following?"

He's shaking his head, "I don't know what you're talking about, I-I don't know who I am but this," he gestures down to his broad chest showing throught a half buttoned shirt. "This isn't me?"

"Ah," Laura grins and sits back on her haunches. "You're thinking of who you are out there and yeah that's you. But in here, everything outside doesn't exist. Okay? And in here, everything that is meant to happen will happen, all you gotta do is play along."

"I'm inside of the movie," he whispers and the night latches onto his voice like a secret that needs to be heard. Laura watches him with a bemused smile. "That's one way of seeing it, but don't think of it like that. Everything you do in here still matters. Just listen to your head, it'll tell you what to do." Laura stands and dusts off the knees peaking through her ripped jeans. "Come on, weirdo."

They walk back to the club and Harry wants nothing more than to go home, to bury himself beneath the blankets never to emerge again. A sharp pain shoots through his brain as he blinks away the image of watching the big screen with barely contained anticipation and a blond boy sat next to him. Laura leads them to the bar and turns to him. "Hey, get drunk, have some fun. Just forget about everything outside of this for now."

Harry nods and grins, his shoulders set. "All right, get me drunk then." To sum it all up they drink--a lot. Laura orders for him and cackles like a hyena at Harry's scrunched face at the taste of his apple martini whereas he shrugs and takes another sip of the sour beverage. They move onto the floor, Harry winding his arms around Laura's waist as they dance with her back to his chest. He feels brand new in the moments that follow, reborn into something bigger.

"I'm getting another drink, you want anything?" Laura pants and unwraps herself from his arms. "No, I'm good," Harry denies, shakily.

Laura laughs, "Well, look at you being responsible." She heads over to the bar.

  Harry chuckles and stops dancing to catch his breath. He takes in gulps of air and just as he looks up, catches the same hooded gaze as earlier watching him through a dense sea of moving bodies. Harry holds his dark gaze as the guy approaches with the edges up his thin lips quirked slightly upward and the underside of his cheekbones darkly shaded by the dim lighting. With his white button down and rolled up sleeves, and a simple black tye hanging loosened from his neck, it isn't hard to tell he's a businessman. Probably here to celebrate some sort of promotion or investment. Harry can't hold back a smirk of his own when the man stops in front of him and his mouth speaks without any instruction from his brain.

"You've been watching me," he says, bringing his left hand up to push stray strands of hair back from his face, all traces of who he was mere minutes ago vanishing with the teasing words.

"I have, haven't I," he concedes, his dark eyes never once leaving Harry's face. "I hope it wasn't making you uncomfortable."

"Quite the opposite actually," Harry grins. "What's your name?" And it sounds cheesy even to his own ears. There's no way to know how this works, to know whether these are his own words, or the below average work of a Hollywood screenwriter. But it feels natural enough, so he decides to go along with it.  
"Louis," The man says just loud enough to be heard over Pitbull. His eyes are like magnifying glasses, and they search Harry as if they don't even know why he's talking to him, or why they're even here. He's a few inches shorter than Harry, which makes him wonder why Laura described him as tall, but for what he lacks in height he sure makes up for in presence, the mood growing thicker with each slow blink of his eyes.  
"Harry," he offers a hand to shake only for Louis to look down at it and chuckle.  
"How about we dance instead," he takes the hand and brings it up to his shoulder, "I would offer to buy you a drink but I reckon you've had a decent amount of those already."  
Harry laughs as they start to move faster at to the pound of the music. "Was that your plan," he teases, "to wait for me to get piss drunk so you could get me into bed?"  
"Hm, is it working?" The rumble of Louis' voice vibrates against Harry's cheek on his neck.  
"Sorry, I don't have sex with guys I only met two minutes ago," he says, "Especially creepy ones who take count of how many alcoholic beverages I've had."

Louis' laugh is light and airy in his ear and Harry can't help help but feel like he's won some sort of award. Louis slides his hands further down Harry's back. "Fair enough."They dance for three songs, Harry getting hotter and hotter by the second. Louis' hands have sneakily migrated down to his bum, Harry grinding back into them every other beat.

Laura's the one who breaks them up. "We should go now, you have work tomorrow," she tells Harry. "You've had more than enough fun over here."  
"Oh, yeah, I'm coming." He says hastily and looks down as leaves and says to meet her outside. "I have work tomorrow," he says lowly into Louis' chest, Louis' fingers moving slow circles into his back. "At the mall, in the cafe, the sweets section. My shift is from four to nine." He looks from underneath his lashes at the man's amused face and runs his fingertips over the soft scruff underlining his cheeks. "Whatever you decide to do with that information is up to you."  
He straightens and leans down to press a soft kiss to this side of his lips and gives him one last lingering look before he backs away. He doesn't have to look back to know Louis' watching but he glances behind him anyway, just to make sure. There's a glimpse of longing eyes of saphire before the crowd separates them and the cool breeze of outside hits him again.

Louisiana isn't as hot as one would imagine.  
In fact, there's breeze so cool in the nightime air,  Harry nearly regrets not having picked up a coat this morning as he scans the lot for his old beaten down car that had once been a shiny new gift from his parents. It comes alive with a burst of yellow light and a high pitched greeting when he presses the panic button on his keys, and grins his way over to his baby. His grin, of course, though cheery, is forced and frozen onto his bitter lips very much like his first kiss in 5th grade. To be fair, tugging his door handle a bit harsher than necessary and shutting it loud enough to notice a few birds fly from the ground, is completely justifiable because, like every other day for the past two weeks, _Louis_ _hadn't shown up._  
He hadn't shown up that first Saturday when Harry had taken extra long in the morning to add a deeper pink to his lips, one he'd never risked wearing to work before, and he hadn't shown up today when Harry had all but rolled out of bed and into his 4:30pm shift with a frown on his bare face and a hunch in his tensely set shoulders.  
But it doesn't matter, he resolves as he cranks the car, thinking over Laura's encouraging words from the other day. _"Whatever happens will happen, you should've read the book."_ And yeah... He should probably quit asking her for advice.  
He just about to pull out of his space when he notices the side profile of a man, walking in front of his car with an air of determination surrounding his steps and a pair of sunglasses perched atop his head.  
Harry sighs, letting down his window to point his head out. "You know it's closed right?"  
He comes to a stop gradually as if not sure whether or not he should be surprised, but then he turns, first his head, then the rest of him to face Harry's tiny car and what's surely a trainwreck of a hair bun. Maybe it's just a lazy smile, but it streches across the man's face all the same, retracting a mirroring twin out of Harry himself.  
He's flooded with embarrassment, reaching up to feel his bun as Louis takes teasing steps towards his open window.  
"Is it really?" Louis says once he's come to a stop beside the car, leaning down to rest his folded arms on the door. "Is it nine already?"

"Yeah," Harry whispers as he struggles to hold back a manic smile. "It is."

"That's just my luck because I was actually here to see someone," Louis hints, "an employee I believe, brunette, long hair, pretty tall."

"Hm doesn't ring a bell," Harry bites the inside of his cheek, turning his head away from the window. "Don't you think you're a bit too late?"  
"Dunno," Louis whispers and Harry shivers underneath the weight of his gaze. "Do you?"  
Harry inhales sharply and turns to face the man leaning against the side of his car. He's much more attractive than he remembered, his face lighter without the dim lighting of the club, but his cheekbones just as prominent under a light dusting of scruff. His thin lips are turned down for once and his eyes, the waves of a turbulent sea during a rainstorm, watch Harry like a bad man awaiting God's judgement.  
"Let me take you out," Louis says at last, the waters still waging a war behind his eyes.  
And it's, "Okay," that Harry whispers in the end, and they make plans for six on Saturday when he doesn't have work. Harry leaves the parking lot with Louis' number in his phone and a new yearning ache for violence in his chest.

  A booming clap of thunder wakes him on Saturday, rattling the half full glass of water beside his bed. Harry groans, dragging a clammy palm down his face and fumbling for his phone. The brightness of the screen burns his eyes in the darkness of what he now knows to be noon. It's unusual weather, certainly not frequent before hurricane season, and sure enough when he unlocks his phone, there's a league of texts from names he barely recognizes raving about the storm. So he checks the weather forecast and... Well, it's safe to say he won't be going anywhere today.

A strike of lightening paints the room blue as he gets up and heads to the kitchen to start the coffee pot, a slight ache in his knees from the way he folded them during the night. He scratches at the back of his neck, yawning into the palm of his hand as he waits for the coffee to brew, the rumble of the pot mixing in with the far away thunder. The very sound of it makes him nervous, sitting at the table with his hands clasped together in his lap.

His phone buzzes again from the table with a new message, and he barely pays mind to the tiny smile on his face as he reads it.

 ' _summer thunderstorms_ _?_ _,'_ Reads Louis' text, _'seems like fates really against us'_

 ' _good thing i dont believe in fate, innit?'_ Harry replies before sitting his phone down and pouring his coffee, the sound of the liquid hitting his mug much nicer than that of hard rain. He ignores the next alert until he's mixed in his sugar with a bit of liquid cream and returned to his seat at the table. The first sip sends heat through his chest, a pleasing burn in the chill of his flat.

He looks down at Louis text, blowing softly over the steam as he reads.

' _really ?? Id took you for one of those superstitious types though, with the long hair and dimples, probably wears flip flops and a belt with shorts am i right'_

  _'NO,'_ Harry shoots back, unable to stop the surprised giggles that come tumbling from his throat. He doesn't wear shorts with a belt, at least not anymore. And honestly, the flip flops..

  _'So youre telling me youve never worn flip flops?"_  
Louis takes a minute to reply, or maybe he doesn't and it's just Harry being desperate, but when he does its short and blunt, _'i knew it',_ and Harry's still laughing when the phone rings not even a minute later.

"Hello," he breathes, staring down at his coffee that's no longer as hot as he likes it.

"Let me come over," Louis coaxes, his voice sounding much deeper over the line.

"Um," Harry pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. They've only known heach other for a few days, and sure they've been texting a nonstop, but should he really trust a stranger into his apartment? "Now?"  
"Yeah, I mean," Louis hesitates. The thought of the other man not wanting to make him uncomfortable wrattles something deep in his chest and the tight resistance there gives away just a bit. "We had a date planned, and I wouldn't like to cancel it, would you? So I was thinking maybe we could do something inside?"  
_"Something?"_ Harry grins crudely even though Louis can't see it. "How fun."  
"Oh don't be like that," the other man's laugh crackles over the line, probably due to the shitty signal. "You know what I mean."  
"It's storming out," Harry says slowly, "and we barely know each other. It'd be the perfect plot for a horror film."  
"Well--" Louis starts, but Harry quickly cuts him off.  
"I'll text you my address." He can hear the beginning of laughter when he hangs up and quickly sends the address before going about calling Laura.

"You better have a good damn reason for waking me you flower fucker," she groggily answers.

"I do actually," Harry assures. He puts his mug in the sink and heads back to his room. "You know that guy I was with at the club the other week? Well, he's coming over and I don't know what to wear."

"You've been seeing him for a week and I'm only now hearing about it?"

  Harry scans his orderly closet, throwing out a few t-shirts, "No, this is our first date, I think?"  
Laura sighs deeply into his ear, as if she's the one experiencing the wardrobe crisis. And he isn't trying to be stereotypical, it's just that he'd been in his best attire that night. He can't have Louis see him again and just change his mind.  
"This is your first date," Laura starts in that condescending tone of hers, "and you've invited the man back to your apartment... "  
"He--"  
"In the middle of a storm?" She adds and--okay, rude.  
"He invited himself, I thought we would cancel the date," he defends. "And besides he's hot, like _really_ hot. Don't you remember? This is a once in the lifetime chance that will not be crushed even by mother nature."

"Sure," she drawls, "It's tan guy with the black hair right?" She hums, "Funny, I didn't think he seemed like your type when I pointed him out."

"What? No," Harry sighs, "Look, he'll be here any minute, are you going to help me?"

"You're staying inside so wear sweats," she snaps, "the cute little tight ones that make your ass look good."  
"Okay, okay, what else?" He asks, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder as he digs through his closet.  
"A jumper because your place is always fucking freezing, put your hair in a bun but make it loose and effortless. You can wear makeup so long as he doesn't notice, or don't really--I wouldn't. Oh and one more thing,"  
Harry sits back on his bed, chest heaving, "Yeah?"  
"This is the worst first date idea in the history of mankind, good luck pal."  
When she hangs up, Harry heads to the shower much more anxious than he'd been five minutes ago.

 It's not been two seconds since Louis rang the doorbell and Harry looked out the peephole to see him dressed in jeans, fucking _jeans_ that mold his legs like inky paint and a navy well-fitted blazer. And like, Harry is in _sweats_. He looks good yeah, comfortable. But he took the wrong advice obviously, and he makes a quick promise to kill Laura the next time he sees her before opening the door with what he hopes is a friendly smile. "Hi! Come in," he rushes, trying to keep Louis' eyes from studying him for too long.

"Oh, hi, yeah," Louis barely has the door closed behind him before Harry's pulling him to the living room. "You look great," he says softly, his voice sounding far away. Harry looks back at him and whips his head back around quickly, a deep heat starting down his neck. "Thanks, you too," he murmurs, nice enough to ignore the still obvious gaze on his ass. Maybe he'll let Laura live after all.  
"Lucky," he sits on the couch and pats the space beside him. "You didn't get even a drop of rain on you and it's really coming down out there. Where's your umbrella."

  "Oh, I uh left it outside the door," Louis sits close enough so their thighs touch and he reaches into the lapels of his coat, pulling out three movie cases "I rented these for us. I obviously wasn't sure what you would like so I just, yeah."

"You watch romantic comedies," Harry observes, "And musicals?" He holds up Love Actually, Bridesmades, and Grease.

"Well Grease is one of my favorite films," Louis admits, "Just thought you seemed like the romantic type."  
"Did you?" Harry looks up at him, at the completely dry state of his hair and the warm tan to his skin. He hums, "What's in the basket?"  
"Thought you'd never ask," Louis grins. He reaches into the basket to pull out a traditionally checkered picnic blanket and spreads it into the floor in front of the couch. He then pulls out various fruit drinks and sandwiches.

"What is this?" Harry giggles, slapping a hand over his mouth.

"It was my original date idea," Louis explains shyly, "Except we would've been at the park and I would have gotten pizza, but I had to alter it due to," he pauses, " _Circumstances."_

_"_ It's great," Harry sits down on the blanket and crosses his legs.

"You mean that?" Louis asks skeptically, "Not too cheesy? Tried my best to be romantic." He sits down as well once the food is all layed out on the cloth, and gives Harry a paper plate.

"You did good," Harry praises, his cheeks aching from the velocity of his smile. "It was very thoughtful of you."

  "Good," Louis' smile imitates his own, "Pick a sandwich."

Harry discovers a lot about Louis as they eat, his traits and quirks find themselves categorized in Harry's mind as pros and cons. For one, he's a good listener. Laura is when she wants to be, but Louis actually _listens_ , he makes direct eye contact with him as he speaks and makes sure he's done before responding. Harry's never been oblivious to the fact that he's a slow talker. Sometimes he has trouble transferring the jumbled thoughts in his head into smooth sentences. And if the problem multiplies in front of attractive men with blue eyes and stubble who plan romantic picnics, then who can blame him really?

Louis packs everything back into the basket when they've finished, insisting that Harry sit on the couch as he does it.  
"You're making a big mistake by spoiling me," Harry warns when Louis finally sits beside him.

"Everyone deserves to be spoiled every once in a while." He states, flipping through the movie options.

"I guess you're right," Harry pauses before reaching over to take the cases from his hand. "Can we just, I mean these are great, but I'd like it if we could just talk for a while?"

"Talk?" Louis seems taken aback and leans back into the couch. "All right, I'm up for that."  
"Great," Harry whispers. He then swings a leg around so he's straddling Louis' thighs, his arms wrapped around the back of the man's neck. "Tell me about yourself."

The shimmering amazement in Louis' eyes is not something Harry has ever had directed at him before, and he looks down as he focuses on something to ask. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-six," his words falter as Harry's fingers trail through the short hair as his nape, and Harry leans down to press a smile into the junction of his neck. "Hm," he hums. "I'm twenty-four if you were wondering."

"Well I did briefly," Louis murmurs, his thin lips barely forming the words, too busy aligning with Harry's. "You looked so young in the club, dancing around all carelessly. Everybody wanted you, you know that?"

"Oh," Harry giggles, "How do you know?"

"Because I was one of them." Just as he gets the last word out a boom of thunder rockets the floor and the lights go out with it, encasing the room in darkness. Without the constant buzz of electricity, Harry can only hear their hushed breaths, mixing together in soft puffs from their mouths. They sit there for a while, only able to see each other in the sharp flashes of lightening every few moments.

"There are candles in the kitchen," he whispers, almost apologetically, for breaking the thick silence. "I can go get them, just give me a second."

He goes to get up from Louis' lap, two strong hands grab onto his hips, pulling him back in and--oh. His lips are softer than they look, the scruff shaping them giving the overall light kiss a rougher edge. There's barely a sound when their lips break apart, breaths much heavier than before.

"I can hear your heart," Louis says shakily, bringing his right hand down from Harry's side to rest on the erratic organ in his chest. Harry gulps and leans forward to slide their mouths together again. This time it's _mo_ _re,_ Louis' slick tongue parting his lips and licking against the top of his mouth. Harry moans, grinding his hips slowly, enough to make Louis groan low in his throat and move away to take a breath. Harry doesn't stop moving, leaning his head down to lick a hot stripe down Louis’ throat while bringing his hand back to rest on his heaving chest.

"You can have it," he offers, "you can have everything."

He doesn't really hear himself until the words have left his mouth and Louis pulls him back to see his face clearly. "What are trying to say?" He pants, barely loud enough to be heard over the rain.

"Well, its been a while," Harry blushes, "and I think this could be--more. I'm not just looking for one night." He can't keep looking at Louis' eyes, they're like crystals and they focus too direcly, so he settles for fumbling with the collar of his shirt. "If we're gonna do this, I just need you to know that now, you know? That I want something serious."

“It's been a while for me too," Louis agrees after a brief silence. "Not since highschool actually. Was too focused on building my career, didn't really have time to waste on relationships I knew wouldn't last."

"What type of career?"  
"Law," He states proudly, a shining glint in his eyes.

"Ah," Harry smirks, "Hence the whole businessman gettup you've got going on here then? I reckon you love to argue? This relationship is never going to last."

Louis laughs lightly, eyes crinkling cutely at the sides, "Well, I've never really been one to bite my tongue, I guess, but I don't really have serious arguments outside the courtroom so I'd say we're safe."

"Hm," Harry hums, eyelids drooping. "That's good then."

Louis reaches out, cold fingers brushing a stray strand of hair out of Harry's eyes. "Should I go? You seem like you're about to pass out."

"You could stay," Harry purrs, Louis' gentle fingers dragging through his scalp.

"Don't you think that'd be moving a bit too fast?" Louis asks, "I mean, if you want something serious."

"We won't be doing anything." Harry quips.

"Hey I'm sure as hell not against it," Louis clarifies, "I just didn't take you as one to rush in is all."  
Harry snorts, "You were way off. The way I see it, I like you, you like me--how about we find out if we can love each other. Simple. If it doesn't work out then at least we tried right?"

Louis chuckles, shaking his head. "You're very strange, you know that? And who said I liked you?"

"You said you wanted me,"  Harry says coyly, "Same thing."

"Alright then," he laughs, moving his hands back to Harry hips, "fair enough." He stands up abruptly, causing Harry to yelp and cling onto his neck.  
"How are you doing this," he gasps breathlessly. "You're so tiny."  
"You're barely an inch taller than me, Styles," Louis heaves hum up higher onto his waist. "Which way is your room?"

"Just down the hall to the left," Harry yawns, "It's too dark in here."

"Don't worry, I've got you," Louis reassures, walking them slowly through the hall, careful to avoid hitting anything.

"Where are you from," Harry barely manages to ask, his face buried into the crook of Louis' shoulder. "Sometimes you have a weird accent."  
"Was raised in Boston," Louis moves to place him on the bed, the dancing trees outside the window casting dark shadows across his face. He looks best like this, in low light, the shadows beneath his cheekbones like the woods at night.  
"Didn't know I still had much of an accent."  
Harry reaches for his blazer, tugging it down his arms, and then starting on his button-up. "Is this okay?"  
"Yes," Louis murmurs, still hovering above him with hooded eyes, and he could just be tired, but the sight of them makes Harry's hands fumble on the buttons anyway. Louis' move up to gently pull his away and quickly tug the last few free so he can shrug the shirt off completely. Harry's gaze locks on the center of his chest, on the big eloquent words stretching across it. _'It Is What It Is.'_ He reaches up to trace them, goosebumps raising on Louis' arms as his fingers smooth over the light hair there. He spreads his hands over the expanse of the man's chest, moving them down to settle over his toned tummy. His skin is like a fireplace, warming every bit of Harry that it touches.

"Come on," Louis moves away, tugging at the bottom of Harry's sweater. He let's himself be undressed, closing his eyes and shivering slightly at the loss of warmth as cool air hits his skin. He opens them when he down to his boxers and moves over to the right side, turning his back to Louis' chest, head resting on his thick bicep.

"I'm the little spoon," he whispers like a secret to the moon that glares at him through the branches outside the window. He falls asleep a fond voice saying, "You are aren't you."

  
 The smell of rain is the first thing he notices before opening his eyes, the second being an innocent breeze across his bare chest. After opening his eyes though, the only thing he can care to notice is that the left side of his bed is empty, and the warm body that served as a warm conductor throughout the night, has left him to grow cold like a crow in the winter. He blinks the haze from his eyesight and sits up, planting his bare feet on the freezing hardwood floor, and streching his arms above his head. The window is open, the curtains blowing gently through the dewy air that wafts in, and Harry takes a nice heafy breath of it before getting to his feet. There's no rain coming down, but the angry turbulence of the dark clouds outside, hint that the dryness won't last for much longer, and his phone confirms it as he checks it on the way to the bathroom.  
He tests the switch and, to his glee, the bulb comes on, casting the room in a soft yellow light. It's been growing weaker, he should probably think to replace it. If he actually remembers to buy one while he's out one of these days then he will... Eventually.  
The hot spray of the shower turns his skin soft pink, his eyes wondering down to the drain as it welcomes sudsy water just in front of his feet. _He could still be here,_ his own mind betrays, _he could be in the front_.  
Harry laughs humorlessy, and starts to shampoo his hair. It's isn't like he can be upset with Louis though. The man had told him he was diving in too fast, they'd only just met for God's sake. It was his own fault for pushing harder, telling a complete _stranger_ almost that he wanted _'commitment',_ urging him to stay the night so they could cuddle. It was rash, and he should probably just stick to dating sites from now on if he wanted long-term.  
Harry steps out the shower just as a hard knock comes from the door, "Harry? You in there?"  
He gasps, his feet slipping on the wet tile, his arm grabbing the towl just in time to keep him from splatting onto the floor. "Um, Louis?"

"Yeah, good morning," he says through the door, "I took a quick shower, hope you don't mind that I took some of your clothes?"

"No, um," Harry pipes, "That's alright."

"And I was thinking, maybe we could go somewhere for breakfast? Perhaps that diner down the street, Lee's?"

"Sounds great, yeah,” He calls, "Be out in a minute."

"Alright," Bare footsteps tread away from the door.  
He let's out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, and grips the edge of the sink, mind settling, and starts to quickly brush his teeth.

 

 The diner is quiet and empty, having just opened five minutes ago, and they sit together in a cramped booth with a dim yellow bulb placed above it.

"Well, it could be worse," Louis hums and he tucks into his hefty pile of flapjacks.  
"I like it here," Harry counters, "It's always quiet. Friendly old woman works in the back. I come here whenever I want to find peace outside of the apartment."  
Louis swallows, "Oh yeah? I feel like I should've known that."  
  "Well, now you do," Harry smirks taking a sip orange juice that's a bit too tangy for his taste. He smacks his lips, "I'm guessing you've never been here before, do you live nearby?"  
The hesitance is faint, but it's there and Harry's eyes catch the slightest stutter of Louis' spoon on the way to his peachy lips. "Well, not really," he pauses, "I just moved  here a few weeks ago."  
"From where?"  
"Manhattan."  
"Really?" It's hard to force his force to stay nothing more than curious. Hard not to go into full interrogation mode and question why a successful lawyer from New York would relocate to a small city such as Hammond. Every word that left this man's mouth caused a heavier lump to settle in his chest, but all the while, the league of butterflies fluttered in his stomach. It was a mess. "Why Hammond of all places?"  
"A very close friend of mine lives down here," Louis says, oblivious to Harry's raging inner turmoil as he finishes off his bacon. "Name's Luke, he works at the art center downtown. He's been wanting me to come for the longest time, so I figured I'd come check things out for a bit."  
"Yeah and how's that working out for you?"  
Louis looks up, pushing his plate away, "I don't know yet, but it's looking good."  
"Are you finished?" They're startled apart by the waitress, Harry just then noticing their heads had gravitated towards each other over the table. Harry clears his throat, the redhead giving him a weird look. He's seen her around, at the market and a few other times he's been here, and she'd been more than friendly. Maybe because he hadn't had the most gorgeous man in the world across from it. It feels nice to know he isn't the only one affected by it.  
"Yeah," he hands her the plates, one nearly empty and his only half finished.  
"Hm," she grins, walking away, "knew you couldn't eat all that by yourself."

 Louis settles into his life like cracks into the leaves at the beginning of autumn. Harry gets into the habit of marking the days they waste together on his calender, hoping that someday in the future he'll still have the dates to match their memories. Laura says he's moving too fast.

"I haven't even met the guy," she complains, her face shielded behind a Vogue magazine cover. "He could a be killer for all I know."

"What reason would he have to lie?" Harry sprays heat protectant onto his hair before rolling it into the curler. They've been on exactly six dates in the span of five weeks, and he knows he's been holding back, being careful. Louis' eyes crinkle when he laughs, and his cheekbones are jutting yet soft to the touch above a blurred line of stubble. He listens, and picks Harry up from work, and doesn't interupt him when he takes a while to get some random point across. He cuddles him from behind at night, and doesn't try anything even when he grinds back into his hard on in the morning. So maybe he doesn't need to be so careful anymore. "If he wanted to kill me he would've done so by now," he rolls his eyes and leaves it at that, because it's much easier said than everything taking up his mind.

"Ok then," she sits up and lets the mag flop down onto the bed, calculated eyes glaring at his reflection in the mirror. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything," Laura dares, crossing her arms challengingly, “Everything you know about him."

"Well," Harry takes his hair from the curler and turns to face her, leaning his hands back against the dresser. "He's 26, a lawyer, raised in Boston to two Pediatricians. He went to NYU, he loves football, he loves junk food, his best friend is called Stan and he works at the art center downtown, he has one younger brother but he hasn't talked to his family in years--"

"Um, excuse me," Laura interrupts, and standing dramatically from the bed. "No contact with his family, that is a serious red flag Haz, we have talked about this."  
"Really?" Harry fights to hold back a smile.  
"This is serious," Laura groans, "I'm trying to protect you."  
"Ever stop to think that maybe I don't need protecting?"  
  She gives him a look and flops back onto the back. "I hate you."  
"Sure you do," he brushes his hair, turning the springy curls to soft waves. He shakes it out and runs a hand through the front before turning around. "What do you think?"  
"You look absolutely gorgeous," she deadpans, "I'm assuming you're trying to get laid tonight so I'll try to be gone when you get back."  
"Oh please," Harry rolls his eyes, "We'll hang out tomorrow."  
"I have a shift at the mall," Laura shivers, "Kids with crumbs and sticky fingers crying for ice cream. Why couldn't we get jobs in department stores?"  
"You love the kids just as much as I do, you're not fooling anyone," Harry gets out just as the doorbell rings. "Ok," he smooths down the front of his red and black floral button up. "It's him, lock the door when you leave!" He shouts halfway to the door and Laura groans loudly in response. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out into the hall.  
"Hi," he breaths into Louis' mouth, hot and slick beneath his. Louis pulls back and grins mischievously up at him before diving in again, woving his hand into the thick hair in the back of Harry's head to tug harshly, backing him into the door. Harry moans his arms wrapping around Louis shoulder as he licks into his mouth in earnest. "I hate mint chocolate," he pants as Louis moves on to bite kisses into his neck. "We aren't, _Louis,_ we aren't going to make it if you keep doing that."  
Louis presses a few more chaste kisses to his neck and leans in for one more soft peck on the lips before pulling away completely. "You look so fucking good in that shirt."

 Harry's always enjoyed how loud New Orleans is at night. Several bands play in the street and somehow they mix beautifully with the light music drifting from the inside of the shops. His hand, intertwined with Louis', swings back and forth between them as they walk down the street along with many others. There hasn't been as many curious looks as Harry's used to, only a few when he's laughing or, right now for instance, gesturing excitedly at something. "It's beautiful," he snaps a few quick photos.  
"What, the horse?" Louis looks around him to get a look at the cute animal pulling a carriage.  
"It's a mule," Harry laughs, Louis joining in as he leads him to the restaurant he must've chosen for them.  
"Mm," Harry inhales, "It smells great in here."  
"Yeah it's the seafood," Louis agrees, looking around at the available seatings. "Pretty dim in here," he comments, "Makes it seem more casual, I Iove it."

"Me too," Harry observes a booth tucked into the corner of the room, just secluded enough to provide them with a bit of privacy.

"Just you?" The hostess finally gets to them, her eyes wide and friendly and her hair in a high ponytail. "Um, the both of us yeah," Harry answers since her eyes are focused only on him. She looks at him strangely before turning around. "O--kay, right this way then," she leads them over to the table Harry was eyeing and leaves to get menus, promising to be right back. "Nice over here," Louis remarks, "Cozy." Harry nods as the woman returns, placing the menus down on each side of the table.

"I'll be back to take your order when you're ready."  
"Alright, thanks a lot," his eyes scan over the salad options.  
"Ooh, they have a grilled shrimp one," he says, "Or crab."  
"What're you looking at?" Louis asks fondly.

"The salads."

"You don't have to get a salad you know," he reminds him.

"I know that," Harry smiles, "but I really want one. Besides we ate burgers yesterday remember?"  
"Alright then," Louis looks down at his menu, "I think I might go for the seafood platter. Says here it has fried shrimp, fish, and oysters? I've never tried fried oysters."

"You haven't? You really should, I love them."

"Do you?" Louis taunts, "With the way you preach about animals I'm surprised you eat meat at all."

Harry blushes, "I tried to be vegan when I was a teenager."  
"Oh really," Louis laughs, his hand coming to rest on his stomach.  
"Yeah," Harry shook his head, "Drove my parents insane so. It didn't work out."  
"I would imagine so," Louis sobers at the sight of the waitress. Harry narrows his eyes and ponders the possibility of them knowing each other. It sure would explain her blatantly ignoring him and the awkward air surrounding Louis when he isn't addressed.  
"Are you ready to order?"  
Harry tells her their order and she takes up the menus, replacing them with dessert ones. They chat idly as they wait for the food. About the tension surrounding the table across the room where a small boy sits sobbing while a woman hisses at the man across from her, and about how Harry drove his tricycle into a ditch once when he was six. Unsurprisingly, Louis finds this bit of information hilarious.  
"There were tadpoles everywhere," Harry shivers, Louis knocking their feet together beneath the table when the food arrives.  
He ends up not liking the oysters so he gives them to Harry who adds them to his salad.  
"You are absolutely disgusting," Louis cringes.  
  Harry smiles and stabs at the lettuce to take an even larger bite.  
They go half on the bill, Harry managing to leave a reasonably sized tip before Louis drags him away. They take another hour to walk around the city, Harry photographing nearly everything. Louis shakes his head each time. "You seem like a tourist."  
He gets a stranger to take one of the both of them on the boardwalk with the moon shining on the dark water behind them, but Louis snatches it away before he can see the outcome.  
"I'll give it to you at home," he says, "It's getting late." Though Harry suspects he only wishes to have it for himself, so he smiles knowingly and lets it go.

Louis plasters himself to Harry's back, moving his hair aside so he can pepper kisses along his nape, while his hands mold themselves into Harry's hips.  
Focusing on the lock is nearly impossible and he's on the verge of crying out by the time he finally fits the key in. They stumble inside, barely managing to close the door behind them as Harry leads them to the back. The lights are off, the glow from the moon the only thing illuminating his thankfully tidy bedroom. He sends a quiet thanks up to God for Laura as Louis lays him down, their lips meeting slowly, despite the erratic dance of Harry's heart.  
He searches desperately for something to compare this feeling to as Louis unbuttons his shirt and tugs it down his arms. His thin red lips tread him gently like dangerous waters, and Harry thinks he's found it. Louis' fingers move up and down with Harry's shallow breaths as they trace over the tingling spot left by his lips. He drags them downward sending shivers down Harry's front as he shifts his legs and forces himself not to jerk upward.  
"I won't fuck you."  
The breathless whisper is loud in the presence of silence and Harry whimpers at the sound of it. "W-why?"  
Louis shakes his head, deliberately brushing lips over the obvious tent in his pants. "Tell me you're clean."  
"I am," Harry breathes.  
"Do you trust me?"

  Harry gulps, "Yes."

 A sure grin stretches over his crotch and Louis moves away. "Shh," Louis shushes his whimpers as he stands and shrugs off his shirt. "Get those off."

By the time Louis gets his own jeans off, Harry's only gotten his around his ankles and Louis helps him pull them off completely, climbing over Harry to run his palms up the inside of his legs. "Beautiful," he whispers as he leans down to press their mouths together. He sucks into Harry's mouth eagerly, pressing him down into the mattress as he ruts down. Harry moans brokenly, disconnecting their lips to turn his face into the pillow, hands grabbing at the bedsheets.  
Louis moves to his favorite spot on Harry's neck, just below his jaw, biting down harshly and soothing the spot with a swipe of his tongue.  
 Harry hisses and thrashes his legs, Louis hands finding the back of his knees to wrap them around his waist, grinding down in time with his sucks. Harry loses touch with the sounds leaving his mouth, knows he's too far gone to control them. His nails drag down Louis' back, clawing a soft groan from within his chest.  
"Fuck," Louis breathes and stops to catch his breath. Harry uses the opportunity to do the same, plays with Louis hair damp form sweat. Finally Louis rises onto his elbows and brushes a back a curl plastered to Harry's forehead. "Roll over for me, love." Harry licks his dry lips and Louis makes room for him to turn onto his front. Harry sighs as strong hands massage down his back for a few moments stopping, leaving a single finger to trail down the center of his back until it reaches his puckered rim. Louis pushes down slightly enough to have a hint of pressure before moving away. He hears a drawer open and the pop of a bottle before the lubed finger presses into him, slow but firm as it drags against his walls.  
"Oh," Harry shudders, "Lou," he drags out, his hands clenching and unclenching the sheets. Louis blows hot breath over Harry's hole before latching on and licking into his ass like its his job.  
"Fuck," Harry throws his head back, the friction on his cock overwhelming as he ruts into the mattress. Louis takes his lips away to add another finger and starts up again at a quicker pace, pressing relentlessly against Harry's prostate as he wets the entrance with his tongue. Harry reaches his hands up to tug his hair, his high whimpers muffled by the pillow.  
  "Don't do that," Louis pulls back, his voice low and rough, "Let me hear you."  
Harry pulls his teeth from the pillow just as Louis hits his spot dead on, flicking his tongue against his rim as Harry cries out. "Ah, I'm gonna come," He breathes frantically, grinding back back onto Louis' face. His short stubble leaves behind a delicious heat wherever he touches, and it only takes him slipping in a third finger for Harry to bite down onto his hand, breaking the skin as he shoots onto his grid print sheets. Louis moans, replacing his fingers with his tongue, hands moving Harry's hips to bear down onto his face as he licks into him completely.  
Harry feels a dull pain behind his closed eyes that fizzles out to utter bliss leaving him high and pliant he drops down onto the bed. Louis gives his hole a few more kitten licks before sitting up and reaching to the floor beside the bed. Harry peeps his eyes open, breathing heavily into the crook of his arms, to see Louis wipe his face with his shirt. He slowly flips Harry onto his back and dabs up the come painting his chest and thows the shirt back beside the bed.  
"You alright, babe?" He thumbs at the dampness beneath Harry's eyes.  
"I'm great," Harry smiles, droopily, bringing his hands to pull Louis' down to his. He moans at the taste of himself on the other man lips and wraps his arms around his neck, tilting his head at an angle that enables him to go deeper. Louis pulls away and chuckles, "You are insatiable."  
"I want you inside me," Harry whispers coyly, and pouts. Louis pecks his lips, "I will be," he plucks Harry's nose. "Just not tonight. Besides, you're exhausted babe, get some sleep."  
Harry turned to his side so Louis could fit an arm around his waist, the other acting the perfect pillow beneath his head. "We'll shower tomorrow," Louis kisses the tender spot beneath his jaw and intertwines their legs beneath the blanket. Harry hums, pushing back so Louis can tighten the hold around his waist. "Will you fuck me then?"  
He falls asleep to the magical song of a beautiful man laughing and a ghost of lips murmuring sweet nothings against his shoulder.

 Harry'd awoken to the first day of autumn with a lover, and a deep happiness drumming throughout his being that had once been mere contentment. He'd marked his calender before he went to start the shower this morning, and just for the sake of it, used an orange marker instead of the red this time. Louis seemed suspicious of his perky mood, but thankfully knew not to ask about it as they shampooed each other's hair. There's no telling what he'd have told the man had he asked, the feeling had come with sight the second he opened his eyes, with the birds running errands outside his window and the mustard yellow sunlight painting a dark silhouette of twisting bodies onto the opposing wall.  
  It had lasted all day for the most part, but now as a drab boy in a shirt at least three sizes too large rings up his meager items, he can feel it subsiding. Maybe it's the mundane task of shopping for spices that dulls his spirit or maybe it's the bored way of which the cashier asks paper or plastic?--but either way he feels tired, more than ready to hop into his bed now covered with newly washed linens. He says paper and walks bristly through the automatic doors.The rack nearly tips over when hangs his coat, he carefully uses his foot to steady it, keys clenched between his teeth.  
"Need any help?" He startles as a voice addresses him from the kitchen.  
"Laura?" Harry takes his key away from his mouth and moves into the room to see her sitting there fumbling with her hands in what he assumes is boredom. He places the paper bags on the counter, his lips quirking up at the sides. "What are you doing here? Didn't you have a shift tonight."  
"Took off," Laura says absently and glances up, more nervous than he's ever seen her. "Listen, promise you won't be mad at me."  
"I won't promise that," he slowly takes the seat beside her, it's unusual to see her eyes watch him so seriously. All of his memories that go back more than three months ago have been blurred, almost as if he never experienced them and they were placed for no reason other than to provide him with some sort of background, or story. She's present in all of those memories, fuzzy, but laughing. Not looking at him as if he's just been diagnosed with some chronic illness.  
She sighs, rolling her eyes. "Fine, then don't say anything until I've finisned."  
"Ok."  
"I paid a visit to the art center downtown."  
  Harry almost asks, 'since when are you interested in art,' and then he realizes.  
She treads on quickly, cutting him off mid gasp, "I asked for the guy you mentioned--Stan--and he wasn't there. So I went back today, and he was."  
"So let me guess, you interrogated him about my boyfriend?"

"Harry--"

"No, it isn't okay to go," he chides, " _investigating_ my relationship behind my back. After we talked about it."

"Nine years," Laura says sharply, standing from her seat abruptly.  
"What?"  
"That's how long it's been since Stan has even spoken to Louis."  
  "No," Harry stutters, his heart slowing down in his ears. "He must be wrong, he told me.."  
"Harry, Louis lied to you," Laura asserts. "The last time Stan heard from Louis he had just moved to New York." She walks over to his side of the table to hold him at arms link. Harry blinks back confused tears. "I don't know who this guy is or what he even wants but I think you should get away. Fast."  
"Okay," Harry gulps, "but what's the big deal? What could he possibly gain from lying about something like that?"  
Laura groans, "Harry."  
"He deserves a chance to explain."  
"Quit defending him!" She explodes.  
Harry squints his eyes, taking in her worried eyes and shaking hands. "What aren't you telling me?"  
She lets out a deep breath and slumps her shoulders, "You remember that night at the club? The night you supposedly met him?"  
Harry nods.

She continues, "Well that night, I don't know if you remember, but I pointed someone out to you, tall, dark and handsome."

"Of course I remember," Harry thinks back to when time stopped as he sat there at the bar, music pounding a future headache into his head. "When you pointed Louis out to me."

"That _wasn't_ Louis." Laura emphasizes.

"What do you mean?" Harry chuckles, "Yes it was. Then I danced with him."  
"It wasn't Louis," Laura says slowly, "because Stan showed me an old picture of the both of them. Louis definitely wasn't the man I was pointing out."  
He closes his eyes, pinching the space between him, "What are you trying to say? That Louis has some weird twin brother or something?"  
"No!" She groans frustratedly. "What I'm trying to say is you didn't dance with _anyone_ ," she claims, "You grinded alone in the middle of the floor and honestly everyone just thought you were drunk off your ass."  
"Im pretty sure I remember how I met my boyfriend," Harry defends, his words almost frantic, "I'm not crazy."  
"I'm not saying you are, but I'm worried about you." Laura says gravely, tightening her hand on his shoulder. "I just want to see him," she whispers, "bring him to me and I'll be off your back."  
"I know what you're thinking," Harry replies thickly, shaking off her hand, "but this isn't all in my head, and I'd really appreiciate it if you stopped treating me like a child."  
"Where are you going?" Laura protests as he gets up and heads for the door. He sighs, "I'm going for a walk. I need to clear my head."  
His feet move faster than his mind, slapping down to the lobby and into fresh air, getting him to the diner solely by relying on muscle memory. He lifts his phone in a daze when his sits down, and listens stoically to it ring twice before a raspy voice picks up.

"Hello? Hey babe I thought you were staying in tonight?"

"Where are you?" Harry cringes at his assertive tone and backtracks. "I mean what are you up to?"

"On my way home from the office, is everything alright?" He already feels guilty for the concern that seeps through the line. It chills his bones, making him wish for a coffee and maybe a pack of cigarettes. He's never smoked before in his life.

The coffee arrives before Louis, the cigarettes arrive with him.  
"Can I try one?" Harry eyes the smoke tucked snuggly behind Louis' ear. He's careful to avoid staring directly at the man's face because he needs to be focused and no person in their right mind can think about much else when looking at Louis. Or not looking at him as Harry has come to realize. Because he's never seen anyone pay Louis any mind besides himself; the waiter never asks his order, he's never even bothered signalling the bartender down at the bar, and they don't even get strange looks when they walk hand-in-hand down the street. Except sometimes they do, when Harry is laughing, gesturing, or just speaking quietly to Louis in public they get glares. Or _he_ gets them more like.  
He looks up at Louis with fright in his eyes, "What are you?"  
Louis pauses, though he hadn't been moving much in the first place, he looks up with resigned slack in his jaw and gives a deep sigh, "You know who I am."  
"But this isn't you is it?" Harry says, "This is all in my head."  
"Not yours," Louis croaks and clears his throat. "Mine." He interrupts Harry before he can ask. "Can we go back to yours? We shouldn't talk about this here."  
"Ok," Harry agrees. "But Laura's there, and she stays. I don't want to be alone with you."  
He pretends not to notice the glint of hurt in Louis' eyes as they stand, and he pretends not to notice Louis as they walk together in deafening silence back to his apartment.

Laura is still standing where Harry left her when he returns, with her arms crossed atop her chest and her distant stare focused on the wall that separates the dining room. She whips around at the creak of the door, a cloud of relief softening her sharp festures. "Harry, I'm sorry--"

"This is Louis." He interrupts, glancing at the frozen man beside him. Louis grimaces, his face pale as he eyes Laura apprehensively. Harry wants nothing more than to reach out and provide him with comfort, to ease the tension in his shoulders, but he knows better. He won't touch Louis again until he knows the truth.

The room grows silent and he hangs his head to the floor. "Just say it," he murmurs.  
  Laura lets out a shaky breath, "There's no one," she clears her throat, "Theres nobody there."

It's like a fatal blow to the chest that sends his heart spiraling down to his stomach, wracking him with flashbacks of all the times he'd doubted the authenticity of Louis' affections. It was never to this extent though. Never like this.

Time seems to slow down when he looks at Louis, and it isn't in the way he'd prefer, when you know you're falling in love. No this time it's knowing everything he'd trusted had been a lie and the trepidation of realizing he can't get away fast enough.

"You don't understand, she's wrong," Louis objects, his eyes pleading for Harry to listen. But he can't, and as he looks awsy from them he recalls seeing a storm in them all those months ago. All he sees now is grey skies.

"Yeah, well you don't _exist_ ," he scoffs, running a trembling palm through his hair. His mind is whirling eith the fact that he's actually talking to thin air. "Oh my god," Harry plops down with his head in his hands onto the couch and Laura rushes to his side to hold his hand, eyes darting across the room anxiously.  
Louis squats down in front of him and Harry shushes him before he can speak, "Please," he whispers, brokenly, "Don't speak, just let me think for a second."  
"Where is he?" Laura tightens her grip on his hand.  
Harry laughs, sarcastically, "Right in front of me," his laugh cuts off sharply as he glances up at the melting man before him. "On the floor."  
Laura looks at the spot just to the right of Louis, "Leave."  
Louis glares at her, sparing one longing glance at Harry before jumping to his feet. He heads down the hall to the bedroom, and Harry picks his head up and waits.  
He stares at nothing for God only knows how long, until Laura speaks again. "Is he gone?"

  Harry gets to his feet and follows Louis' path down the hall. "Stay there."

The man of his dreams sits on the bed with his elbows on his knees, chin resting atop his clasped hands. He glances up at Harry in the doorway and looks back down. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want an apology," Harry goes to sit beside him on the bed. "Just please tell the truth. Please tell me this isnt all some extreme fantasy I've been living in. "  
"It isn't," Louis rubs a hand down his face, moving up to massage his temples. "My name's Louis Tomlinson. I'm 26 and I live in a apartment in Manhattan. The year is 2014."  
"I don't understand," Harry blurts. "Last year?"  
"No," Louis shakes his head and turns to catch his gaze, bringing a hand up to crade Harry's cheek. Harry can feel his eyes go soft as Louis looks at him with nothing short of admiration, eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles sadly. "This year has not come yet, love," He whispers, "Everything that is happening now, happens within the mind of a drowsy overworked lawyer in New York."  
"What?"  
"I wrote you a note," Louis pulls away and stands, and Harry looks up at him just now noticing the slip of paper on the bed beside him. "It'll explain everything, but it's best if I go now."  
Harry scoffs, "So you're just gonna leave? Just like that?"  
"I should've done so a long time ago," Louis smiles down at him fondly. "My family's probably worried sick, I've been asleep for over a week." He steps forward and Harry sighs, wrapping his hand around the man's waist.  
"I'm gonna miss you."  
"No you won't," Louis cards his fingers through his hair, "You'll be just fine until I see you again." He steps back and cradles Harry's face, eyes asking for permission as he slowly leans down to connect their lips in a watery kiss. "I love you," Louis breathes between kisses. Harry whines, tightening his hands around his biceps to pull him closer, to somehow ignore the ticking clock in the room. He keeps holding on even when Louis breaks away. "I have to go, darling," he thumbs Harry's damp cheek and pecks him once more on the cheek.  
"Why?"  
"Because the next time you see me, so will everyone else." He backs out of the room slowly, like it physically pains him to do so, and Harry waits until he's lost sight of him to let a broken sob escape him. He hears Laura presence in the soothing words that encompass him and tell him it's gonna be alright. But the thing is, he doesn't want alright. He wants falling in love like a trainwreck and murky water when you don't know how it's going to work but you go for it anyway. In the end, he had gotten the violence he once ached for.  
Harry hastily pulls away from Laura and swipes at the underside of his eyes. She doesn't say a work as he grabs the note from the table, watching curiosity as he blinks away the tears blurring his vision and begins to read:

 

  _There are so many things that you deserve to know. Things that I never bothered telling you because you wouldn't even remember when I was gone. But I'm not gone yet, and everything is happening. I came to you in my sleep, as it usually happens. I'll fall asleep only to dream of important moments in the future. Usually in these dreams, or visions you could call it, no one can see or hear me. It's like i don't exist physically in such a realm. But for some reason, all those weeks ago you did. And I was so surprised when you kept looking at me, that i couldn't stay away. There's no explanation besides the fact that I was supposed to see you and you me, and we were supposed to fall in love. That's what I gathered from it anyway. Still It was incredibly selfish of me to stay so long while knowing this wasn't my life, and I couldn't give you what you wanted long term--not yet. I should've woken myself after that night in the club, but i couldn't. I just wasn't strong enough. Did you know I visited the mall nearly every day to find you? I'd forgotten where you worked so that made things a bit difficult. I was worried you'd forgotten about me or assumed I wasn't interested. On the day in the parking lot, I'd told myself that if I couldn't find you that time I'd wake up. Funny how that turned out huh? We can star again, since usually everything I see tends to happen. So don't think of our love as unreal, more like a teaser before the real thing. So goodbye love, and tell Laura goodbye as well though she never was vey never nice to me was she? I have to go back to the now, but I must say, the future is looking beautiful._

 

They both jump as the front door opens and shuts by itself in the dining room, and Laura looks up from the note with wide eyes.  
Harry cried himself to sleep that night, Laura whispering soothing words into his ear as he dreamt of new beginnings and forgot what it was like to be in love. _And they make no sound, but the stars are telling him something. He can't say they were something he'd missed while in the city -- he had never been one to look up -- but he had nothing to distract him so he was free enough to see them now and that's all that really matters, isn't it? He had seen it all through the years and now he was alone. Everything he should've noticed has just come back around, like wondering ghosts from a time he shouldn't even care to remember. But the future still matters though, because unlike the past, the future can be dreamt up into whatever one's heart desires. And right now, as he looks up for the first time, Louis sees the night sky as a movie screen, his eyes a gritty black and white projector. At the thought, what could hardly be named a smile flirts with the corner of his mouth and he thinks that maybe, just maybe,_  
 _what the stars are trying to say is all that has yet to occur._ -  
Harry gets up from his seat to clap with the rest of the theatre, while simultaneously bowing with the cast. His shirt is black and half unbuttoned, causing a light chill to settle across his chest as he glances down below from the top tier at the cheering crowd. "Incredible, isn't it?" A small hand claps him on the back and a man to match its size comes to stand beside him. Louis Tomlinson leans againt the railing, his eyes shining as he waves to the adoring fans below.

Harry grins, unable to pull his eyes away as he agrees, "Yeah it is."

Just as Louis' returning the smile, his eyes dart to a spot behind him..

"Harry, bro!" Harry cackles as Niall clings onto him from behind, swaying obnoxiously from side to side. "Breathtaking film, man. I'm pretty sure I shed a tear or two at the end there!" Niall moves past him and holds a hand out to Louis. "Niall Horan, I'm a huge fan."

"Good to meet you mate," Louis greets brightly, his hair shining in the overhead lights as they shake hands. "What are you doing after this? The main cast are going to dinner," he mentions. "I'm sure no one would mind if you came as well."

Harry meets Louis eyes over his shoulder and smiles. "Great idea, he will. And Niall?"

"What's up?"

"Could you go make sure our car is in order? I would hate to have another mishap after last time."

"Oh, yeah," Niall groans, "I know what you mean, I'll do that now?"  
"What happened last time?" Louis asked when he's gone.  
"Driver disappeared," Harry frowned.  
"Ah," Louis rolls his eyes dramatically causing Harry to giggle as he leans beside him on the railing.  
"So," Louis starts, and pauses, his hands denting his pockets and feet crossed at his bare ankles.  
"So.."  
"So I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner sometime?"

Harry furrows his eyebrows and looks down at the man whoms face is hidden beneath his fringe. "But I am?"

Louis laughs and glances up as him while shaking his head. "Not that dinner you oaf. _Dinner_ ," he emphasizes, "With _me._ " He takes his hands form his pocket to fold his arms across his chest. "Sort of like a date."

"Is it or is it not a date?" Harry teases, his cheeks surely blushing pink beneath the harsh lighting. With a quick look around he notices there are few people still in the theatre and they must've missed the rest of the cast already. Either Louis doesn't notice or he just doesn't care because he never looks away.

"It is," Louis says softly.  
"Then yes," Harry nods, "I would really like to."  
Louis hums, and they smile stupidly at each other until a voice interrupts the tranquility of the moment.  
"Harry!" Harry whips around to see Niall over by the stairs, tapping his foot impatiently. "You're gonna be late for the dinner!"  
  He turns back to Louis who gazes at him unbashed, "Go on," he urges, "I'll meet you there." He brings him in for a hug that ends up lasting a bit too long to be completely platonic, and backs away with a secret tilt at the edge of his lips.

 Harry walks down the carpet with Niall scurrying along beside him, heads ducked to avoid the blinding flashes and rushed inquisitions of the paparazzi. They're almost to the car when one question in particular causes Harry to look up out of amusement.

"Harry, is it true that you're seeing Nick Grimshaw!"  
He starts to laugh until he catches sight of a face that seems all too familiar, slowing down as his eyes focus on a man holding a ridiculously large camera, his smile, no longer hidden behind a thick unruly beard, beaming and bright. Harry laughs, amazed eyes keeping track of the deep brown ones until they're blocked behind the dark tinted windows of the car.  
"Whew," Niall breathes as the chauffeur tries to get through the crowd. "It's absolutely mad out there mate."  
"Yeah," Harry agrees, strung tight from adrenaline. "It's great."  
His phone buzzes from his pocket and he pulls it out to see a sleeping photo of non other than Nick. "Hello?"  
 _"Harry I know why it happened it was the magician he's behind all of this--"_  
 _"_ Woah, woah, woah, slow down," Harry chuckles and puts the phone on speaker so Niall can listen in.  
 _"The magician,"_ Nick gasps, less frantically this time. _"I made a wish to be romantically linked to an a-lister remember? That's the reason for all of this! I swear if I ever lay eyes on that dirty bastard again!"_  
"I did," Niall speaks up, sounding far too amused by the situation. "He was here tonight," he turns to Harry, "You seen him, beautiful bloke with the brown skin and green hair."

"Him?" Harry thinks back to no more than three hours, to what feels like a lifetime ago. "Wow. And how would you know what he looked like? Did you make some dumb wish as well?"

"Nah, I just went along with Nick," Niall recalls, "It was during our trip to America a few years ago. Josh went skinny dipping in the Mississippi."

  
_"Look nice chat and all, but I have a magician to catch,"_ Nick hangs up. Harry and Niall shrug at each other an Harry leans back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his head.  
"Honestly, whatever reason it happened doesn't matter now." He realizes, "Everything's changed, Niall, everyone around us."  
_"_ Don't I know it" Niall snorts, "I checked me phone during the movie to see I had the president of the US on speed dial."  
"That's impolite," Harry grumbles, "And Obama? Are you sure?"  
"Yeah, I called him to make sure it wasn't fake. We're gonna hang out sometime if you wanna come."  
"I'll think about it," Harry hums.

"So," Niall says and Harry can sense he's about to say something rude, "You and Louis eh?"

"Don't," Harry chortles.

"Come on," Niall urges. "The chemistry in that film was just amazing man, there's no way you could just fake something like that."  
"And how you know that?"  
Niall gives him a dubious look, "I know _you._ And no offense but you're pretty shit at acting, though I admit you were pretty good this time."  
Harry frowns in agreement and hums. "I was only good because I wasn't acting."  
"What do you mean?"

"I was sitting next to you and next thing I knew I was in there," Harry explains, "It was like I was someone else completely? I didn't remember you, I didn't even remember _me._ It was just life for me, five weeks of life."

"Um, Harry?" Niall coughs.

"Yeah?"

"The film was barely two hours long mate."

Harry rolls his eyes in exasperation as they pull up to the restaurant. A large man who Niall identifies as Harry's 'body protecter' escorts them inside before the paps arrive. A sharp waiter with a cloth slung over his arm leads him to their table. Just as they're drawing near Harry's eyes connect with a pair of cloudy blue ones, the light chatter of the room along with Niall's anxious laughter falls into the background, nothing moving at the pace it should be, and everything blurred. _Everything besides Louis Tomlinson's overtly handsome face._ The smug grin overtaking it slows Harry to a stop, his mind reeling with all of the possibilities until he reaches in and grabs one at random. Niall side eyes him as he beams at Louis and starts walking, slower this time now that he can see the future. They've found their New Beginning. And they have all the time in the world.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [ itskindahappening on tumblr](http://itskindahappening.tumblr.com/)


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